One Step Away
by flootzavut
Summary: "He was supposed to be here to draw the Slayer out, to recce her fighting style and ability, but now he was watching her, he was loath to interrupt..." An AU of School Hard where Spike gives in to temptation at the Bronze. I mess about with the timeline in a couple of places, but hopefully not so much that it's hard to follow. 12 chapters.
1. Temptation - Spike

_**One Step Away**_

* * *

 _with many thanks to the wonderful folks of EF many of whom helped in myriad ways getting this from idea to published story_

* * *

 _ **Temptation**_

* * *

Spike found himself... fascinated. Entranced.

He was supposed to be here to draw the Slayer out, to recce her fighting style and ability, but now he was watching her, he was loath to interrupt. He wanted to join in, to sidle up behind her and slide his hands around her waist, down to her hips, pull her back against his body...

So young, so luscious; it almost seemed a shame he was going to kill her.

Angelus was the one who actually preferred his victims all innocent and untouched, the git, but Spike was far from immune. He couldn't deny there was something downright alluring about her, something she'd likely lose if he let her live long enough. She moved as if she were dancing on the cusp of womanhood, innocence and sensuality irresistibly combined.

He'd planned to get her outside, watch her fight, sacrifice a minion or two to suss out her skills, but instead he found himself moving closer, onto the dance floor, drawn in. She was quicksilver bathed in light, a finely tuned weapon; sharp and bright as a sword, but much more dangerous.

He saw when her Slayer senses picked up his presence, but she didn't even look worried, much less stop dancing. Her eyes closed and she smiled, a secret, satisfied kind of smile, as if she knew something no one else knew. Which... she indubitably did, but Spike didn't think that was the expression of a girl wrestling with the reality of being the Chosen One.

It was as if knowing there was a vampire nearby watching her was a comfort, even... a turn on? He filed the thought away to puzzle out later. Too young and happy to have a conscious death wish, surely, but there was something unusual here, if she could feel him so close at hand and remain blithely unconcerned.

He gave in to the moment of weakness, made his way through the mêlée; not dancing, just moving with the music and the crowd, prowling around until he was right behind her little gang.

(And what was that about? A Slayer with friends was... unexpected. He'd wondered at it, thought he'd been mistaken, but now he was almost among them, he could tell they were here together, could scent them on one another. The closeness and familiarity between them was too strong for casual acquaintances. Strange.)

She was dancing with them, but was also unmistakably by herself, apart, in her own world; even as the boy grabbed her hand, there was a subtle push and pull to it. She was there but not there, not readily tugged back into their mundanity.

And she shone.

She glanced up, as if she sensed someone's eyes on her, and caught Spike ogling. For a second she stilled completely. He watched as she assessed him, assessed the way he was looking at her. She bit her lip, her eyes widened, and he could hear her heart racing, sense the blood rushing to her face.

Interest, self-consciousness, maybe even arousal?

He smiled, slow and wicked, let himself smoulder at her momentarily. She turned away, embarrassed, shrugged a shoulder as if dismissing him. If he were a man, he would skulk away, ashamed and abashed, but he wasn't. She couldn't hide from him that there was a flicker there. She was not the ice queen she was trying to play. Something in her had, however briefly or unwillingly, sensed something in him she wanted.

Spike grinned and let the music ease him up behind her. He could tell when she realised he hadn't been so easily brushed off; he half expected her to turn and hit him, but after the slightest hesitation, she continued to dance, and didn't even flinch when he brought his hands up to rest lightly on her waist. He chuckled. Not easily cowed, this lass.

"Hey, baby."

She tilted her head up at him and cocked an eyebrow, looking amused.

He frowned. Okay, so maybe his opening line was a bit dated, but there was no need to be rude. "Laughin' at me?"

She shrugged again.

He'd planned to get a whiff of her blood, make her blush again, tease her and threaten her and disappear, in more or less that order - there was still time to get her into a fight - but he never could resist a challenge.

Now he wanted to make her melt.

He shifted in closer, let his hands caress her hips, insinuating himself as if he had every right to invade her space. She rolled her eyes and made a vaguely disparaging noise, affecting haughty indifference to his presence as she turned her head away and gave in to the insistent pulse of the music, but he could sense more than she knew, could feel her softening and letting him move against her, with her, until they were swaying as one.

She was clearly used to attention, but that didn't mean she was immune to it, and Spike was not a stripling boy who didn't know what to do with a woman. He knew the dance well, knew how to sneak in under her defences and coax her out of her scepticism. Maybe it was risky, but he reasoned it away as getting a fuller picture of his next Slayer, his next battle, his next victory or his final doom. This was still reconnaissance. It just smelled better than usual.

... oh, the scent of her. He'd never forgotten what it was like, the call of the Slayer's blood; it wasn't a thing so easily put from his mind, but even for a vampire, the memory dimmed with time. The power of it, the way it made his whole body sing, made him want to sink his fangs into her throat here and now, and who cared if she had a stake hidden somewhere to dust him with as he drank?

It was painfully tempting, but he pressed his face into her hair instead, fighting back the urge to do something incredibly bloody foolish. She mewled despite herself as he took huge gulps of Slayer flavoured air, and he suppressed a laugh at the way it made her dissolve just a little bit more. Not so used to this kind of appreciation, he'd wager. He grinned even as he continued to breathe her in, filling his nose and mouth and lungs with her and letting out a soft groan of his own.

 _Patience_ , he counselled the demon. Anticipation was beautiful. It'd be all the sweeter when he killed her, knowing he'd been so close, had made her shudder with something besides fear. Oh, he could wrap himself up in this one... It nearly made him regret what he had planned; it was too bad he couldn't keep her.

At the edge of his vision, he could see the kids she'd been dancing with notice she had attracted someone's attention, realise she was no longer dancing with them so much as near them, was no longer even pretending to be part of their world.

Red obviously knew the Slayer could handle herself. The glare she turned on him was disapproving but not concerned.

The boy... well, Spike didn't need to look, could smell the anger, hear the pounding heart. The barely reined in hostility and possessiveness, as if a piddling little whelp like that could ever possess a Slayer, even one barely out of pigtails.

Spike had to give due credit for impeccable taste, though. A man's reach should exceed his grasp, even if the poor dolt hadn't a clue how far he was reaching, hadn't figured out he was trying to bridle sunlight. When Spike deigned to glance up, he saw the boy glowering. Or at least it would be a glower on a man. It looked more like a sulk on this lad.

 _In your dreams, boy. Try again in a century._

Spike grinned and pulled the Slayer in tight against his chest, no longer content to barely touch her. He wound his arms around her waist, staking a claim, giving the little upstart something to get pissed off at. It was a stupid thing to do... and he couldn't seem to stop himself.

 _Don't you worry, lad, she'll be mine soon enough._ Then the sad-sack could spend his puppy love on someone he might be able to catch. Spike would have this prize for himself.

God, she was _glorious_.

Who was he kidding? The boy's anger was thoroughly enjoyable, but he'd take any excuse to touch.

She stiffened as his hands moved hungrily over her, though she didn't push him away like he'd expected. She let out a whimper, half alarm, half reluctant enjoyment.

If his nose didn't lie (and it never did), Red would be more than happy to comfort the boy through their inevitable loss. He had a suspicion she was no pushover - he felt power there - and maybe she'd turn out to be less easily caught than she appeared, but it still wasn't nearly as absurd as the thought of matching that callow youth with Spike's Slayer.

In the meantime, though, he had more important things to concentrate on, his own agenda to consider. The woman in his arms, all soft and warm... it would be easy to lose himself in her, and he needed to get a grip. "What's your name, love?" he murmured in her ear, his lips close enough to all but brush against her skin, his breath raising goosebumps on her neck.

"Buffy." Her voice was husky, underlaid with uncertainty. She didn't entirely want to be part of this, but she was unwilling to draw away. The dichotomy was delicious.

He laughed. Buffy? It suited the image she no doubt projected to most of the humans around her - blonde, bubbly, probably a cheerleader - but for a Slayer? Ridiculous.

She turned enough to glare at him, her bottom lip a tempting pout. He was going to drain her dry, but maybe he'd taste that lip first.

Not now. He could sense her strength, too, and was already dangerously close to giving himself away. (How was it the bint hadn't figured it out yet? He knew she'd felt him, he'd seen it, but she'd not made the connection. What was she, so pally with vamps she didn't heed the warning? This used to being followed, watched? He couldn't imagine.)

No, if anyone was going to play dirty in their dance, if anyone was going to have an unfair advantage, he'd make sure it was him. His reasons for being in Sunnydale were too important to let her stake him while he was busy being distracted by her body. If she realised, if he gave in and slipped his hands under her top, his cold fingers caressing her warm, tempting flesh, whatever had blinded her would topple and she'd be on him like a shot, he was sure. He'd have to play it carefully, make certain she was well off balance here before he let her know he was her enemy.

(Momentary fantasies aside, he also had no desire to be dusted on this dance floor before he'd had the chance to fight her proper like.)

He could tell she was good; he'd need all his wits about him to make her his third. God, though, it'd be spectacular. He knew that already. Even just dancing, everything about her screamed danger and death, sent his vampiric instincts absolutely wild. She would be a fine trophy, was going to give him a run for his money, and he was hard just thinking about it.

He couldn't resist grinding into her pert little backside, demonstrating the effect she was having on him, laughing again when she gasped. _Oh, I'm a bad, bad man, baby. You_ better _be scared._ He was pressing his luck - she was on the verge of kicking him in the nuts. The uncertainty of this game was starting to outweigh the fun for her as playful gave way to predatory. He was reluctant to let go of the moment, but his very reluctance told him he must before he made a misstep and became prey himself.

He drew in one more deep lungful of her scent, hunter and quarry in equal measure, and grinned when her breath stuttered.

"Mmmm, Slayer," he rumbled, finally letting his lips graze her neck as he pinned her arms to her sides.

She went from cautiously flirtatious to tense and ready for action in a mere fraction of a second, and he laughed as he tightened his hold on her. "Don't want to give yourself away do you, love? Not the place for it." The threat in his tone was not subtle. "Never know who might get hurt..."

Fear in her scent, but also sex and fury. She was a fiery one, he had to give her that. She'd be a pleasure to fight, no doubt; she was going to be a genuine challenge, and it'd been way too long. Too long since his Nikki had pinned him, had almost taken him.

A challenge. A thrill. A beautiful, wild, dangerous girl. He was fair humming with the promise of it.

He ran a hand down her arm and gripped her wrist just tight enough to let her know he was no fledge, that he was a worthy opponent to her just as she'd be one to him. He wasn't about to let her twist his head off like he'd risen five minutes ago.

She swallowed, loudly. "Who are you?"

"You'll find out on Saturday."

"What happens on Saturday?" Even mixed up with terror and lingering desire, her voice was firm and strong now, determined.

 _Good girl_. He nuzzled against her skin so she'd feel it as he smiled slow and wicked, then licked up to her ear, chuckled at her squeak of disgust and protest. He let his voice drop to a sultry whisper, so even her Slayer-sensitive ears would have to strain to hear over the music. "I kill you."

Her moment of shock at his candour was enough for him to push her at her companions, to leave her flustered and flailing as he slipped away. He heard the commotion behind him, but he was fast and he was smart and he had no one here he needed to protect. By the time she was outside, she had to rescue another damsel from a disposable minion.

Bugger was big and strong, but she was quick and crafty, flinging the girl to safety before he even knew he was under attack; he barely had time to yell Spike's name in fear. Spike watched from the shadows as she stood in the falling dust and looked around her, her face still tense and angry, every line of her body spoiling for a fight.

She stayed there far longer than he'd expected, more patient in pursuit than he would've tagged her for. She'd seemed calm before, blasé about sensing a vampire watching her out on the dance floor. Now she was taut as a bowstring and utterly alert. Definitely a story there, though the most important thing was that he'd be wise not to underestimate her.

Eventually her shoulders slumped. She threw her stake hard enough at the wall to turn it into splinters, then turned abruptly and strode back into the club, frustration coming off her in waves.

Spike grinned. Yeah, she was a feisty chit of a thing.

This was going to be _fun_.

* * *

 _The eagle-eyed will spot that Spike references a famous line from Andrea del Sarto by Robert Browning: "Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,/Or what's a heaven for?"_

 _This story will likely just span the events of School Hard, but there may be some followup within this AU. Watch this space!_


	2. Disappointment - Buffy

_**Disappointment**_

* * *

"Spike. That's what the other vampire called him?" Giles frowned, as if he was about thirty seconds away from polishing his glasses. He looked perturbed. (Only Giles could manage a facial expression that deserved that word. Anyone else would just look worried, but Giles definitely looked perturbed.) "That's a little unorthodox, isn't it?"

"Maybe he's Reform." Buffy couldn't quite summon up the wit for a better joke. God, this was depressing.

"Perhaps he went by another name in... times past."

Jenny was the practical one, as usual. "Well, whoever he is, we'll need all the help we can get come this Saturday."

Buffy let the conversation roll over her.

She'd thought she was making Angel jealous, dancing with the hot stranger, but Angel hadn't even been there. And her stupid vampire tinglies had totally failed to tell her Mister Bleach Blond But Still Attractive was also Mister Seriously Evil. She really could pick 'em. Even the man she'd chosen to give Angel a case of the green-eyed uglies was a vampire. She was starting to think she had a problem.

Well... this Spike guy had picked her, really, but despite playing it cool, she hadn't minded being picked. He was undeniably good looking (in a dated sort of way), and she'd felt a thrill at being the girl who caught his eye.

Really, if the hair didn't tip her off, the fact he'd come on to her should've been a clue. She sighed morosely. Of _course_ anyone who showed an interest in her was going to end up being undead. It probably came with the slaying gig. And it was so annoying!

"He's worse."

She glanced up, startled, at Angel's sudden appearance. Everyone else looked startled too, so maybe nobody had noticed she'd missed half the conversation.

"Once he starts something he doesn't stop until everything in his path is dead." Angel looked all grim and bad mood-y.

"Hmm. So, he's thorough, goal-oriented..." Xander shut up pretty quick when no one laughed.

Buffy put on her very best confident smile and her slayer-strut, as if she wasn't at all insecure about Angel; as if she wasn't wigged out of her mind by what'd happened earlier and desperately in need of reassurance.

"We were at the Bronze before. Thought you said you might show." Ugh, she was pathetic.

"You said you weren't sure if you were going."

Angel did that adorable almost-a-smile thing that made him look all bashful and made her want to forgive him anything.

She stepped in closer. "I was being cool. C'mon, you've been dating for, what, like, two hundred years? You don't know what a girl means when-"

"What did he do to you?"

She blinked at the sudden change of subject. "Who?"

"Spike. What did he do?"

For a moment she just stared at him, open-mouthed. Where had her cute, shy almost-boyfriend with the puppy-dog eyes gone? "What did he... what? He didn't do anything to me."

Angel's nostrils flared. "Then what happened?"

"What makes you think anything happened?" Buffy was suddenly scared. Angel's bad mood-y-ness had come back and gotten darker, almost threatening. He was looming over her, glaring at her like she'd done something terrible. She'd never seen Angel really angry before - not at her. She didn't know how to take it.

He leaned in closer and took a deep, exaggerated breath in through his nose. "I can smell him on you."

Buffy swallowed. She hadn't thought about Angel's superpowered senses. She hadn't realised he'd recognise another vampire's scent so easily. (Or that he'd recognise Spike's at all.) "You know the whole smelling people thing is gross, right?"

Spike had done that, she remembered. Buried his face in her hair and taken huge gulps of air, like he couldn't stop. At the time, it'd made her stomach do a funny flip-flop and her heart pound. It hadn't seemed gross.

She pushed the thought away. She was just food to Spike - well okay, she was the Slayer, so she was probably gourmet food, but still, food. It'd been hunger when he'd breathed her in, not attraction, and that changed everything. The memory had no business at all making her knees go kinda wobbly.

Angel was still glaring at her, studying her face. He sniffed deeply again. "Why'd you let him get so close?"

Buffy could feel herself blushing. _Didn't do anything wrong_. "I-"

"Why, Buffy? I need to know."

"We just... we danced, okay?" She sounded apologetic, and that was infuriating. She hadn't done anything wrong, had she? She'd been there waiting for Angel! It wasn't her fault he had let her down, again, had left her uncertain and guessing, in need of some validation.

"With a vampire?"

"I didn't know!"

"You knew he wasn't _me_ ," he shot back.

Something inside her snapped. "You weren't there. You're never there, you're always appearing and disappearing and I can't rely on you, ever." Angel looked aghast. Buffy supposed he'd never seen her angry either, not at him. But she was. Angry and tired, tired of mixed signals and broken dates and never knowing where she stood. Of getting told off like a child. "Am I just supposed to wait around for you? Never dance with another guy? Never even look at another man?" She was almost crying, and she confidently expected him to relent, to wrap his arms around her and pull her close and assure her that he'd do better.

He didn't.

Instead, he gave her a sullen look, his jaw set, his mouth a stubborn line.

He didn't speak aloud, but his expression said it all and her heart sank; yes, she realised, she was supposed to wait around and hope he'd occasionally show up. To put up with the way he never explained himself or what was going on, and expected her to just accept it.

She could feel the tears that had welled up escaping down her cheeks, and she swiped at them ineffectively. Tears of anger and frustration. Tears of powerlessness. Because it was Angel, and she was most likely going to behave exactly as he wanted her to, and part of her hated him for that.

She looked down at her feet and tried to figure out what she should say. He probably expected her to apologise, but this wasn't her fault, at all, and she wasn't going to let him trample on her yet again when he hadn't been there. "You weren't there," she repeated more quietly. It didn't come out as firm as she'd intended, and she shook her head. Why was it so hard to stand up to him? How had she ended up being the one in the wrong?

She opened her mouth again, glanced up to see what she could read from his expression - and found herself staring at empty space.

"Well, so much for finding out if this Spike fellow ever went by a different name." Giles sounded mildly irritated, which was so normal it was almost comforting after Angel's weird behaviour.

"Okay, that's it," said Xander, with a shake of his head. "I'm puttin' a collar with a little bell on that guy."

Buffy laughed half-heartedly at the joke, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood, but she was shaken. Angel was the unreasonable one, right? But her fear of losing him had her feeling guilty and insecure... again.

She sighed. Dating the undead. She should've known it was never going to work out well. She reluctantly dragged her mind back to the not-very-distracting distraction of research. Solving the mysteries of Angel would have to wait. She had to survive the Saint Vicious thingy first. And worse... she had to survive Parent-Teacher Night.


	3. Bad Dog - Spike

_**Bad Dog**_

* * *

The factory was none too homely, but they'd made the best of it. It was safe and deserted, and however irritating and stupid the Aurelian minions were, at least they kept guard and made the place reasonably secure.

He found Dru in the bedroom, chatting with her dolls. "'Lo, darling."

She swayed towards him, that faraway look in her eyes that said she'd been off playing with the stars and the fairies and whatever else'd called to her broken mind.

He hung his catch out of the way and opened his arms wide. He'd make sure she ate in a bit, but first off he just wanted to gather her in and hold her close, remind her how much she was loved.

"Spike... my little Spike." Her face lit up as she studied him, then dropped like a child who'd had its favourite toy taken away.

"What's wrong, love?" He reached out to embrace her, eager to comfort her over whatever had her rattled.

A resounding slap around his face. Spike reeled, more in shock than pain; his princess was still so weak.

"Baby?"

"Bad boy. Bad boy's been playing in the sunshine." Dru looked both hurt and angry. "Wicked Spike all covered in gold."

He clasped his hands on her shoulders, then rubbed one up over her neck to caress her cheek. "What's got you all upset, love?"

She turned her face into his hand, then vamped out and nipped his palm.

He was startled, but let his thumb brush against a fang. If Drusilla was feeling mischievous, that was a good sign for sure.

"Eat first, Dru, play after."

She caressed his thumb with her tongue, then bit down on it, hard.

Spike yelped. That was not playful. He gritted his teeth and barely resisted the urge to belt her around the head. Dru liked, sometimes needed, a bit of violence, but in her fragile state he was taking no chances, no matter how much she riled him or how much she wanted it. (He was not Angelus. He cared far too much to truly damage her.)

"Dru?" he managed. At least it might get a bit of blood down her throat, and he hadn't been with her for over a century without being used to getting roughed up, but he could see something was wrong for her to be glaring at him the way she was.

She let go, shook away her game face, and now her eyes were wet with tears. "My poor Spike, all burned from the brightness and you don't even know. Burned up, dust and ashes in my mouth."

"Drusilla..." He couldn't make head or tail of what she was saying, but it was obvious she was distressed. He shrugged off his coat and draped it around her shoulders before pulling her into his arms. She didn't resist this time, collapsing into his chest like someone had cut her strings, but she whined softly and wouldn't stop shaking her head.

Gently, Spike gathered her up and carried her to bed. She slumped into a pile of leather and cotton, wrapping his duster more firmly around herself, then sobbing as if something about it was distressing her even more. She was quiet, almost drowned out by the chanting from the minions who were tending to the Annoying One, but it was still painful to listen to.

For a few minutes Spike sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair back from her face and wiping away her tears. He got such pleasure from doting on her, running his fingers through her curls. So different from Buffy's. Cool and dark, not liquid sunlight. Though both were scented with danger and death...

He pushed the thought away; the girl wasn't 'Buffy', she was the Slayer, and she wasn't his concern. Siren song of her blood aside, she was just a pretty lass with a few unearned superpowers, and he was going to kill her before too long. Besides, he preferred brunettes.

Dru started whimpering again.

"What's wrong, love?"

"I think sometimes that all my hair will fall out and I'll be bald."

"Never happen, sweets. You know that."

She just shook her head, eyes wide and sad. "Would you still love me, Spike? Inside and outside?"

"Always and forever, pet. Eyeballs to entrails."

She didn't look convinced, and his repeated assurances and promises of devotion didn't seem to soothe her the way they always had before.

Eventually he gave up trying to draw her out, gesturing to the meal he'd caught instead. "I brought you something young and fresh to eat, Dru. Will you eat for me?"

She studied him solemnly. "Poor William," she said. "Lost in the light and can't find your way home."

He couldn't recall the last time she'd used his given name. He hadn't a clue what'd made her say it now, nor why she thought he was lost when he was sitting right here next to her.

She stroked her fingers over his cheek, and the look in her eyes was almost pity. "You should go up and cleanse with the others. Wash off the sunshine."

Spike considered reminding her he'd not been near the sun, that it was nighttime and he'd been sussing out the Slayer and getting some food for his beloved. But it seemed like a lot of effort to state the obvious. "Rather be with you than poncing about with those wankers."

She pouted and whined again.

"Now now, kitten, you know I'd do anything for you," he said, getting to his feet. "I'll go get chanty with the fellas. But you got to do me a favour, too." He unhooked the girl from the wall and brought it to her. "Promise me you'll eat something."

Dru didn't look happy, but she vamped out again, and he was so relieved to see it, he didn't even mind what she was making him do. A boring ritual with a bunch of hidebound traditionalists was his idea of torture (and not the fun kind), but if it got his dark princess eating, he'd chant all bloody day.


	4. Major Suckage - Buffy

_**Major Suckage**_

* * *

When she woke up, it took a minute for the events of the previous day to register. Hot guys who turned out to be vampires, Parent-Teacher Night, Angel being weird, the pitfalls of French homework, the threat of Saint Thingy... for one glorious moment, it was all happening to some other unfortunate girl.

Then it came crashing back. "God." Would it be so bad if she just blew off the whole thing? Got expelled? The threat of expulsion and a vampire calmly informing her he was gonna kill her in the same week - no one should have to deal with this. If she could just concentrate on the death threats, it would make her life _so_ much simpler.

Hey, she was totally never gonna need anything she ever learned in school anyway. What was the point? Shouldn't that even be, like, a side benefit of slayerdom? 'Cause honestly, given the danger and the ruined clothes and the premature death, Buffy felt like being a slayer could really use some upsides. Super strength was neat, but not nearly a fair trade. (And she was still super-sore that the only other guy since Angel who'd made her heart beat a little faster and wilder had also turned out to be undead. Seriously, that was just completely unfair.)

She'd have to tell her mom about the slaying, but would that actually be a bad thing?

She weighed up the pros and cons. Mom would think she was making with the crazy again - would want to ship her off to the funny farm - but now Buffy had other witnesses, and Giles, of course, who was practically the definition of a responsible adult.

She could get Angel to show his vamp face... or maybe not. She wanted Mom to believe her, not to be scared out of her mind. And she wasn't completely sure she was comfortable with Angel and her mom being in the same place right at the moment. She needed them to like each other, and the whole my boyfriend's undead? Mom was so not gonna be wild about that.

Plus, she really had to talk with Angel first and find out where they stood, 'cause the whole jealousy thing last night, well... Buffy was pretty sure jealousy should at least come with some kind of acknowledgement of him actually officially being her boyfriend. It was frustrating not to know where she stood with him, especially when he got all possessive. It wasn't her fault the super hot guy turned out to be a vampire. She wondered if Angel would be more jealous or less if Spike was human.

(She knew for sure Angel would be way more jealous if he'd actually seen them together. Evil vampire or not, dancing with Spike had been... amazing. He'd scared her a little even before she realised what he was - that whole predatory thing he had going on which made so much more sense now she looked back on it - but he'd also made her feel powerful and beautiful and... kinda dangerous? She had _loved_ that feeling... and holy crap, distracted much?)

So anyway, Giles would help her, and the Scoobies, and Mom was smart; she must have noticed this town was kinda weird.

She might even get grounded less often if Mom could accept saving the world occasionally meant cutting class or picking fights or wrecking clothes... (Hey, bonus, Buffy wouldn't actually have to cut class if she'd already been expelled... okay, so Mom probably wouldn't quite see it that way. Bad Buffy brain. So not helpful.)

And honestly, Mom really kinda needed to know at some point. Darla would've never gotten to hurt her if she'd known why inviting strangers in after dark was a really bad idea.

All the positives swirled around in Buffy's head, but there was one negative she couldn't argue away.

Her mom, despite everything, thought Sunnydale was a quiet, safe place. She didn't have nightmares about her only daughter dying, didn't realise that when Buffy cut class or snuck out at night, there was always a chance she wouldn't come back. Mom didn't know there was a vamp out there who'd promised he was going to kill her this weekend.

(Buffy shivered at the memory. It was mostly fear, but part of her, the slayer part she hated to acknowledge, was buzzing with something more like excitement.

Bad, _bad_ Buffy brain. Stupid Sunnydale vampires who hadn't given her a decent fight in weeks. Stupid pretty blue eyes and razor sharp cheekbones. And _again_ with the distraction.)

She turned over in her bed and buried her face in her pillow so her growl of frustration and sadness wouldn't be overheard. She wanted her mom to be safe, not for her to be afraid.

Being the Slayer? It majorly sucked.


	5. Impatience - Spike

_**Impatience**_

* * *

"Parent-Teacher Night, eh?"

Spike's brand new minion nodded, desperately eager to please. Seeing her made him glad Dru had done him properly, and that Angelus hadn't interfered.

Spike liked to think he would never have been such a pathetic specimen, that a botched turning wouldn't have left him as a brainless automaton, unable to resist the bloodlust, caring only for his sire's approval, but the mere idea it could've happened was horrific. And if he'd been a minion for _Angelus..._

Bless Dru and her wild mind, the way the voices in her head sometimes made her slip away and do things of which Angelus and Darla definitely did not approve.

He forced his attention back to the minion, who was still watching him with a sickeningly sycophantic expression on its face. "Tonight, at the school?" The thought was so tempting. He wasn't particularly inclined to be patient at the best of times, and he knew, he just knew, the fight was gonna be a good one. The golden girl he'd danced with... he could hardly wait to dance with her again.

"Yes."

"And you're sure she'll be there?"

Another nod, and a hopeful, needy smile.

This weak-minded chit, she would've been a minion even if he'd taken the time and effort to do it properly. No strength of will at all. Completely in thrall to the demon inside her head, and easily manipulated by her betters - really, an embarrassment to the species. But she'd been a meal for Dru, and it seemed she might even come in handy getting close to the Slayer. Spike congratulated himself on his excellent taste in victims.

"How'd you know all this?"

She practically tripped over herself trying to explain. "She has to be there - she'll get expelled - the principal - have to do it together. She'll be there, honest!"

Spike gave her a dark look, and she shuddered at the unspoken threat of his disapproval. He stifled the urge to roll his eyes. The unthinking loyalty was useful, but still pathetic.

He appreciated real loyalty, true respect, and that was something of which this creature would likely never be capable. He understood devotion; he would do almost anything for Dru, after all. But that was because he loved her and he chose to, not because he was incapable of doing anything else. Told her no when she wanted hit, yeah? Knew how to take care of her. Knew to bring her here when she'd wanted to stay in Prague, where the mob would've taken her away from him forever.

He shuddered in horror. No, he was no subject, but losing Dru was not a thought he was willing to contemplate. If Dru weren't sick, he'd be savouring the chase a whole lot more - his third Slayer! - but this was about necessity, not pleasure. Dru came first.

Speaking of which, he needed to concentrate on the business at hand. This was no time to get distracted. Even a good brawl with Buffy (no, with the _Slayer_ ) was not why he was here in Sunnydale; it was all about curing Dru, and he needed to remember that.

"So..." He cocked his head to one side and eyeballed his eager little minion. "The Slayer, she trusts you, right?"

The thing (what was its name? Shelley? Sharon?) shrugged and screwed up its face for a second as it thought. The expression looked weird with her game face on, but it was the first speck of actual personality she'd shown since rising. "Don't know. But I'm s'posed to be helping her."

Spike nodded. If nothing else, Buffy hadn't a clue the girl had been turned, and that might be useful. She was expecting trouble at the weekend - they'd have the element of surprise. And he really, really wanted an excuse not to wait. "Best practise losing the fangs, love. She'll stake you on sight if you can't."

The minion's eyes opened wide in fear, and her hands flew to her face. At least she had the sense to be properly terrified by the threat. He'd see how she did tonight, and if she didn't give him cause to stake her... well, he might even bother to learn her name.


	6. Intermezzo - Dru

_**Intermezzo**_

* * *

He wasn't supposed to fall so soon, my sweet prince. Miss Edith told me there would be trouble. If only we had stayed in Prague, but my Spike, he wanted me well. He looks after his mummy, and he made us come.

Wicked sunshine, all good and golden... she's going to spoil my beautiful boy. She was supposed to bring Daddy back to me, but now everything's ruined, and not even the lovely chanting can wash away all the gleaming. Sparkly girl is in Spike's head and I cry because we can't get her out. She shines and all the moths fly to her and singe their wings; first my daddy and now my son.

The fairies say we should run away, back to the shadows while we still can. But the flowers are already planted, they will grow and grow and I can't stop them. Can't be killed, already dead, but they grow anyway. Everything I put in the ground withers and dies, but the sunshine can even make the dead things bloom.

She will turn my Spike into gallant Sweet William and take him for herself, and he will leave me without even a sweet pea to tell me goodbye.

Maybe I can bring Daddy back. If the sunshine steals my Spike, then I shall steal her Angel and make him fall, fall, fall. He will hurt me even when I don't ask for it, and I will dance for him like a good child. He will stay in the dark with me and enjoy the flowers that bloom in the night. I will cover myself with jasmine and sleep in the earth, and he will be there when I wake up. He will be reborn.

The path is dark and I can't see the sunshine, but I know she's there. Waiting for my Spike, waiting to ruin him and send him back to me in an ashtray for his heart.

He dances and dances, further and further away from me, where I can't follow. I shall be all alone. Daddy, come and keep me company. I've been a bad girl. I deserve to be beaten. Please?

I laugh at everything I see, then cry. Spike touches my face and it pains me. I can feel her there inside him. Stop and pick the flowers, he loves me, he loves me not. I sing like a caged bird and my naughty boy holds me close.

He won't listen to me. He will stay until he has made me better, and then it will be too late, and the sunshine will ruin my pretty Spike till even I can't help him.

I hate the day. The cruel sunshine would set me on fire if she could. The night's our place. We aren't meant for the light. Spike should know better, and so should she. She shouldn't be stealing him away. I shall make her scream for taking him.

I have to wait for the dark, for the beautiful black velvet. Such a lovely wicked time we shall have when the sun has gone to bed. I will be his queen as long as I can, and rule where she can't find me. I name all the stars so they shine for me, and I will be the brightest light in the sky. If I steal her effulgence for myself then I shall keep him a little longer.

I am still his moon. She has not burned him yet.


	7. Thinky Thoughts - Buffy

_**Thinky Thoughts**_

* * *

Buffy was grateful she had people in her life who were willing to do research, she honestly was - if she had to research and makes snacks and carve stakes and clean up the school lounge all at the same time, she'd definitely end up dying on Saturday - but ugh. Being in the vicinity of research for way too much of the day was making her brain itch with the need to be doing something, slaying something, instead of sitting around putting together plates of finger food and listening to the soft rustle of pages being turned.

The quiet gave her too much time to think, and that way badness lay. The last twenty-four hours had given her way too much to think about, and most of it was stuff she would prefer _not_ to think about. Some of it was just the usual, like painful death or expulsion, but since last night, what she'd been mostly thinking about was Angel. And not in the fun way.

As well as the whole possessive bit, which she was still totally not over, Buffy had a recurrent thinky thought that would not leave her alone, no matter how hard she tried to shake it. Here they were pawing through ancient books to find any clues they could about the guy - no wait, the vampire - who had threatened to kill her. So far, so just another Thursday night in Sunnydale

Thing was, Angel clearly knew Spike. (Well enough to recognise his smell - which, ewww.) It sure seemed like Angel must know more about him than his obviously fake name. So really, it would've been super helpful if she could've gotten the skinny on Spike from her almost-kinda-sorta-boyfriend, or if he could've told them at least a little more than he had. He had come to find them, sure. but he hadn't given them anything useful, then he'd disappeared again. He claimed aiding her in the fight against vampires and demons and evil was his purpose in life, his path of redemption, but...

However disloyal it seemed even to think it, for a guy who claimed his mission was to support and help her, he could be amazingly _un_ helpful. And it wasn't actually a new thing.

Until now, it'd just added to his whole air of mystery, but seriously, some vampire casually strolled up to her and threatened her life (well okay, _eventually_ he'd threatened her life...), and Angel knew him but was so busy being angry she'd danced with someone else, he couldn't even find the time to tell her who the frickin' vamp was? The air of mystery thing got old fast when her life was in even more danger than usual.

Last night she'd been much too upset to think about it, but after a morning of trying to juggle research with all the stupid preparation for Parent-Teacher Night, it'd occurred to her they might've found 'Spike' already if Angel had taken five seconds to at least, you know, share his original name. A few more hours mulling it over and over had her realising, sometime this afternoon, that if Angel knew Spike by scent, he probably knew more than the Watchers did anyway, and could've saved them all this boring and currently fruitless research.

If she didn't have Snyder checking on her every time she looked over her shoulder, she would've skipped out on class or snack prep to go find Angel and interrogate him a bit, maybe take a couple minutes to point out how actually telling her this kind of important detail would be helpful in his whole 'keep Buffy alive, fight evil' deal. Now it was early evening, they'd spent almost a whole day researching, and they still didn't know what they were up against. She'd left frustrated in the dust a couple hours back and ended up at royally pissed.

If only he'd be straightforward with her once in a while, instead of leaving her confused and second-guessing herself. It was exhausting, and she got plenty enough of that with the endless stress of being the Slayer. As soon as she got through tonight, she was going to get some answers out of him.

It made her bizarrely glad she knew where she stood with Spike. It might be a bad place, it might be on a list of people he extra specially wanted dead, but hey, it took the guesswork out of things. As death threats go, she'd definitely had worse.

He'd even danced with her first, made her feel desirable and special and like a woman. It would've been nice if that hadn't come with a side order of 'I'm gonna kill you at the weekend', but it wasn't like she was in a position to be picky. Depressingly enough, his brutal honesty was a refreshing change. And she'd tried to explain it away, but how he'd approached her, cautious, predatory, but fascinated all the same... it was like he'd really seen her, and found her both alarming and alluring. That felt good.

It was a stark contrast to Angel, who'd reacted to her dancing with another man by glaring at her and treating her like a naughty child instead of actually talking to her.

She sighed and took her knife to an innocent cucumber that probably didn't deserve her wrath. That didn't stop her from hacking it into uneven pieces while growling under her breath. _Maybe it's just as well Angel isn't here_. She pouted at her unfortunate victim. Hopefully no one would look too closely before chowing down.

At least she had some friends who actually _helped_ her instead of making with the cryptic, otherwise she'd be even more frazzled now as well as totally doomed at the weekend. Especially since handling Parent-Teacher Night looked like it had turned into a solo mission. Apparently Sheila had decided turning up late yesterday was over-achieving; today she hadn't bothered coming at all.

Buffy would be relieved when this whole thing was over and she could concentrate on simple, straightforward things like death threats and vampire holy days.

(Or were they unholy days, if you were a vampire? And why did she even care? God, she so badly needed to kill something, just to clear her head of all these annoying and unhelpful thoughts.)

A good fight was something she understood, something she could deal with. A principal out to ruin her life and make her mom mad? Not so much. Too bad she couldn't feed Snyder to Spike. She was sure that rodent would give any self-respecting vampire indigestion, and hey, whaddya know, two birds, one stone.

"Do you think..."

She blinked up at Willow, and hoped her total absence of mind hadn't been completely obvious.

Willow looked at her, wide-eyed, and Buffy realised she was waving a rather large knife in her friend's face.

"Oh. Sorry." She let it drop to the table with a clatter and attempted to look as unthreatening as possible.

Willow swallowed and raised her hand nervously, as if fear had her reverting to model student behaviour. "I- I, um, wondered what you were making for, um, punch."

"Punch! I need punch." Buffy screwed her eyes shut for a second. Boy, this day could not get worse. "Okay, you guys hold down the fort, I'm punch-bound."

At least it gave her something to do besides sitting and chopping, which was of the good. She was happy for the excuse to escape from the library and the smell of musty old books for a few minutes. She so couldn't wait for this crappy day to be over.

No question at all, if she was ever again given a choice of being expelled or organising Parent-Teacher Night? Ugh. Next time, she was so taking the easy route.

Right now, expulsion sounded just _peachy_.


	8. Anticipation - Spike

_**Anticipation**_

* * *

Spike was sure it shouldn't take so long to walk across one piddling little town. Place like this, all provincial and pathetic, yet the school still felt much too far away. Or maybe it was just his impatience talking again.

He'd barely been able to sleep all day - he hadn't been this excited about something in years. His blood was buzzing, and it definitely wasn't rushing in the direction of his head; if Dru were a bit less fragile and a bit less... well, ruddy cross with him, for some reason... they'd've celebrated in time-honoured fashion before he left, worked off a bit of tension.

But no, she was all in a snit. Kept hinting he shouldn't be going up against the Slayer, of all the ridiculous notions. Then gave him the big sad eyes 'cause he was looking forward to it! Like it wasn't the most natural thing in the world, like it was a reason to get her knickers in a twist.

Like it _meant_ something. Which it bloody well didn't. The promise of a big fight always got him going, and a fight with a Slayer - any Slayer, mind you, not just this one - well, that was as big as it got, so no wonder he was all keyed up and in need of release.

(Dru hadn't been convinced.)

As it was, well, a date with Rosie Palm wasn't how he wanted to prepare for this encounter. It seemed cheap, somehow, to sully a historic moment with a quick wank.

Unfortunately, the upshot of the lack of stress relief was that he'd spent his afternoon bouncing around the factory like a kid on a sugar high, and it was all he could do now to stop himself sprinting to the school in anticipation of what was in store.

It wouldn't do to act so uncool in front of the minions, po-faced bunch of tosspots that they were. It was bad enough he had to take them with him; he didn't need to repeat the afternoon's overexcitement. Needed to keep a bit of dignity, yeah? Even if he didn't care what they thought of him, for the most part, he didn't want any of them getting ideas. He'd stake them as soon as look at them, but it was easier all round if they stayed nice and cowed and obedient, especially with the Annoying One pulling their strings behind the scenes.

Still, he stalked even faster than usual towards the school. There was playing it cool and then there was dawdling, and he wasn't gonna mooch about like some pimply teenager dragging his feet when there was a fight with the Slayer in his future. He could hardly wait.

As well as the usual death or glory and a cure for Dru, he needed to prove that whatever Dru thought she'd seen in the stars was rubbish, that he was still every inch the demon she'd created. All this nonsense about him getting burned by the sun, and the next thing he knew, she was casting aspersions on his evilness. Him! William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, suddenly not evil enough for her. Sodding travesty, that was.

There were a few inches in particular he was looking forward to reminding her of just as soon as the killing and the feasting was done and she was, she would be, she _must_ be more herself again. With the Slayer dead and his dark princess feeling better... everything would go back to how it was before, without all Dru's cryptic talk and betrayed looks. He was right sick of the way she'd talked about her daddy all bleeding night and half the morning and paid him no mind at all. His dick was going to fall off soon if it didn't get a little attention.

Dru kept warning him and chiding him, like she was upset about what he was up to, which made no sense at all.

It was a fight with a Slayer, which would only help his reputation, and he was getting Slayer blood to help Dru get better. He was doing it for her! They'd tried everything else, and he knew how potent the stuff was. Had nothing at all to do with the bird. She was nothing but a pretty wrapping, all golden and shiny.

Why would Dru even care about a Slayer as anything other than a good brawl and a nummy treat? Especially since Spike was bringing it all home for her. Between that and the energy coming off the Hellmouth, she'd be right as rain in no time, and then she'd love him again.

She had to.

His first Slayer, Dru'd been all over him. Best night of his life. Spectacular fight, spectacular shag. He smiled as he thought back. Didn't know the bird's name, but he could still recall the taste of her blood. Then there was Nikki. He fingered the lapels of his duster fondly. His second, and she'd been wonderful. Now his third, Buffy. He had a feeling she was going to be just as sweet... and bugger if his trousers didn't keep getting tighter.

If Dru refused him after this, he would explode.

Kill the Slayer, present her body as a trophy to his love, and everything would be better. Slayer: dead. Dru: no longer sickly. Status quo: restored. Right? It had to be. As long as he bagged this one... and as long as Dru shut up about her precious Angelus, o'course... Spike growled under his breath at the thought of that wanker.

From what Dru'd said, he was close by and in league with the white hats. Spike hadn't featured the big coward as hanging about in a town with a Slayer, especially not one as good as Buffy looked to be, but the gormless tit must still have the pesky soul that'd made him a master of brood. Spike could just see him mooning after the Slayer and fancying himself all redeemed by helping her.

Spike rolled his eyes at the thought. He had a mind to have a few words with his grandsire, whose unwelcome influence on Spike's life had far outlived his presence in it, and who had a tendency to break things then throw them aside.

(According to Dru and her visions, the bugger had got all tangled up with Spike's Slayer somehow. Dru couldn't see the Slayer, but she hadn't let up about her dear Sire getting closer to the sun, getting burned, disappearing from view. She'd even taken to calling him by the wanky name he'd adopted when he'd come over all soulish.

No doubt it was what he'd told Buffy to call him, too; anything to pretend he wasn't a monster any more, the delusional pillock. Spike reckoned he was doing the lass a favour by killing her before 'Angel' completely ruined her, poor kid.)

Spike'd tried telling Dru her Sire hadn't given a toss about them before the soul, and that getting himself all cursed (while highly amusing) hadn't made him any more of a family man when it came to the Whirlwind, but she didn't take the blindest bit of notice.

Even that wretched soul didn't stop her from pining. As long as the Great Forehead was still alive, Spike would always come second, that was the long and short of it.

The solution was as obvious as it was simple. Soon as he'd dealt with the Slayer, he was going to find Angelus and dust the bastard so he didn't have to put up with Daddy this and Daddy that all the sodding time. Dru would sulk, but in the end she'd forgive him, and the git would be out of their lives for good. Now there was a bloody enjoyable idea.

In the meantime, though, Spike had some very important business to attend to. He paused for a second to savour it when he and his posse of miscreants finally reached the school grounds, then he grinned and strode towards the bright lights of the lounge, where his Slayer should be waiting for him.

First things first. Buffy owed him a dance.


	9. Awkward - Buffy

**_Awkward_**

* * *

She couldn't believe Sheila had been vamped. It wasn't as if they'd been close, she'd barely known the girl, never mind liking her, but it always left Buffy nursing a sense of guilt when someone got near her and wham, vampire.

A couple of teachers were dead too, she was pretty sure. Three victims since Spike had taunted her at the Bronze. Three victims she knew about. It was already too many.

That was it, though, the final tally. She was determined. No one else was getting killed on her watch, not tonight.

(She so wished she knew where Willow was.)

She'd thought Mom and Snyder being in the same room was the worst thing that could happen on Parent-Teacher Night, which just proved she had underestimated life's ability to screw her over. (Again.) She saw the last of the adults into Giles' care, then crept back through the halls to where she'd last heard Spike and his remaining minions.

It wasn't hard to find them; Spike was yammering. It was strange to realise the smooth operator from the Bronze and the impatient, couldn't-keep-his-mouth-shut vampire in front of her were the same person. (No. Not person. He was just a thing, a monster, one who'd killed slayers before according to Giles' books. No matter how person-y he'd acted, she needed to remember that.)

She stopped just close enough she could keep an eye on him while she figured out her next move, but far enough away that with no moving air to carry her scent to his nose, he wouldn't smell her from this distance. (She hoped.) Not to mention he was clearly distracted, busy telling his crew they were idiots. It would be funny if they weren't so murderous and bloodthirsty.

For the most part he looked like he had at the Bronze. Same swagger and arrogance, same swinging black coat, same overly bleached hair.

But tonight there was no mistaking him for human.

"If you cretins let my Slayer get by, I'll let Dru have your eyeballs for marbles."

It was weird seeing him with his demon to the fore. How could she have missed what he was last night? She really needed to work on that. Just 'cause a guy was cute didn't mean he wasn't also evil.

"Here, kitty kitty."

She'd gotten too used to vampire tinglies meaning Angel, gotten used to thinking of them as something other than a warning, and she'd assumed it was him, but shouldn't she be able to recognise when the tinglies weren't of the man she was falling in love with?

"Slayer," Spike singsonged, "I know you want to finish our dance, pet..."

Her cheeks flushed at the memory.

He so needed to meet a dusty end, and not just because he was an evil, homicidal demon. She didn't need any reminders of how they'd moved together, how he'd made her feel. How she'd totally failed to realise she was dancing with a vampire.

How much she'd enjoyed it.

 _Get it together_. Ugh. She could tell herself over and over that she regretted dancing with him, but she didn't, not really. She just wished it wouldn't have to end this way.

He glanced over toward her hiding place, and she held her breath? Had she made a noise? She didn't think so, but the whole enhanced vampire senses thing could be a real pain, and her heart was hammering. Could he hear it? His eyes narrowed, and he tensed. Buffy bit her lip on the gasp she wanted to make, redoubled her grip on the fire axe - then Spike was spinning away from her.

"Angelus!"

She could breathe again. _Thank God_. Her eyes slipped closed for a second, then she caught up with what was going on. Who the heck was 'Angelus', anyway? The name rang the vaguest of vague bells in the back of her mind, but she still wasn't prepared for what she saw.

Angel was there, all fangy, with Xander in his grasp, and if she didn't know Angel, she'd think Xander was in big trouble, about to become this evening's snackage.

Even as it was, she wasn't completely sure Xander was safe.

Angelus... she suddenly remembered it. The name Angel used to go by. It sounded so much more sinister than 'Angel' somehow, which was seriously not a comforting thought. And Spike knew him.

Well, Angel had recognised Spike's scent on her, so that made some kind of sense. She really needed to ask Angel how come they knew each other, and not let up until he actually told her what she needed to know for once. No more putting up with him saying whatever it was didn't matter, or brushing off her concern, or (his home run) being all man of mystery about things. Not anymore.

She still... _really_ liked him, she didn't see that changing any time soon, but she'd gotten a shock last night. The way he'd acted like she belonged to him, and not in a romantic, mutual way, but more like she was his possession, and no one else got to touch.

Just thinking about it made her feel sick. Exactly how badly had she misjudged him? Enough that she should be afraid for Xander right now?

(And how was it possible that she could watch him manhandle her friend and still want him so much? God, there must be something seriously wrong with her.)

At any rate... she was determined not to let herself be trampled any more.

The sick feeling in her stomach got so much worse when she pulled herself together enough to eavesdrop.

"She's cute. Not too bright, though. Gave the puppy dog 'I'm all tortured' act. Keeps her off my back when I feed!"

He didn't really think that. Of course he didn't, he was just playing a part to fool Spike.

It didn't make this any easier to watch.

"I knew you were lying."

Angel squeezed Xander - it looked like hard - and Buffy winced in sympathy. _Please, please let him remember Xander is my friend..._

"Undead liar guy."

She had to trust this was some kind of ruse, a way to get close enough to Spike to attack him. Then Angel offered Xander's neck up to Spike for a bite, and Buffy had to shove her fist in her mouth to muffle her sound of horror. If Angel hurt one of her friends or allowed one of them to get hurt, it wouldn't matter how she felt about him. She'd rip his head off.

She willed Angel to get out of here, keep Xander safe, let her deal with Spike so no one else would get hurt. The whole thing must've taken just a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours.

It was almost a relief when Spike took a swing at Angel. To hear him yell about how Angel had changed, about how demons don't change, so furious about it. As well as easing the tension, it was kinda reassuring. If Spike was so disgusted by Angel, that could only mean good things for Buffy.

Angel fought viciously. Buffy wondered if it was payback for Spike touching his girl. A couple of days ago, she would've been all giggly about that, she'd been so sure it meant he loved her when he got stupid over other guys, but it wasn't the same now. It was all muddled up with the ugly, one-sided possessiveness, it was tarnished. And she hated it.

"Angel, man, little help?"

Buffy glanced over. One of Spike's crew had its arms hooked around Xander's neck, and he looked terrified.

In the seconds it took for her to wonder if getting the drop on Spike was going to have to give way to saving Xander's life, Angel delivered a blow that threw Spike back into the wall, dusted the minion, grabbed Xander, and disappeared. Thank God, or whoever it was who looked after slayers and their friends. Buffy was still shot through with both anticipation and fear, but that was one thing less to have to worry about.

"Well don't just stand there, go after them. This isn't a spectator sport!"

Spike sounded less injured and more annoyed. Too bad. At least his orders thinned the herd a bit more; she was sure there must still be other minions nearby, but for the moment she'd be able to concentrate on Spike. (She ignored the shiver of excitement the idea gave her.)

Now if she could just keep the element of surprise-

"Fe, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of a nice... ripe... girl."

 _Busted_.


	10. Victory - Spike

_**Victory**_

* * *

Spike turned towards the source of that delicious scent to find the Slayer watching from a doorway, the fire axe from earlier in her hands. He should've kept hold of that, really - he didn't much fancy the possibility of having it used on his head - but there was no denying she looked bloody good with it.

"Slayer."

"Slayee."

There was a subtle shake to her voice. Spike could tell she was doing her best to project Slayerly strength and assurance, but he could hear and smell her uncertainty, her nerves. He wondered idly what had spooked her since last night, whether it was him or if his berk of a grandsire had done something characteristically idiotic.

He suspected the latter.

It was clear to him after his little chin-wag with Angelus that Dru was right, and also that the Great Poof already had his claws in deep when it came to this one. Seemed like the soul didn't change his MO very much.

She cocked her head to one side as she moved towards him. Even off-balance, the chit had serious attitude. He reckoned Angelus, soul or not, probably didn't realise just what he was up against.

"Do we really need weapons for this?"

Now _there_ was his Slayer. "I just like them." He looked her up and down appreciatively. She was right gorgeous. "They make me feel all manly."

He dropped the pole and let his hand slide down his chest, watched her eyes follow it until she realised she'd ended up staring at his crotch. She shook herself, trying to brush off her embarrassment. He wanted to laugh at her. Silly girl. Kept forgetting vampires weren't so easy to fool.

(And probably didn't realise she was making him hard as stone. Again.)

She threw down her axe, and he was almost surprised. He'd half expected her to attack him the moment he left himself open that way, but she made no move to do so. Which was interesting.

He prowled closer. "The last Slayer I killed... she begged for her life." He had to give it to her, she showed no sign whatsoever of backing down. Her fear was fragrant in the air, and she was all demure in her pastel outfit, dolled up and pretty as a picture like the good girl the Slayer could never truly be, but underneath all her sweet girl-next-door camouflage, she was ready for battle. "You don't strike me as the begging kind."

There was a flash of pride in her eyes, and he grinned. He couldn't help wondering if maybe he could justify not killing her, keeping her around a bit longer instead. It would be a terrible shame for this to be over too quick.

"You shouldn't've come here."

His smirk widened, and he let his tongue curl up behind his teeth. "No," he agreed with a chuckle. "I've messed up your doilies and stuff. But I just got so bored."

She watched him come closer, her face calm as she studied him. He wondered if he could make that façade crack. "I'll tell you what," he murmured, his voice going deeper and darker than he'd intended, "as a personal favour from me to you, I'll make it quick." He took a breath, and when he continued he managed to sound a bit more taunting. "It won't hurt a bit." He was supposed to be scaring the bint, not seducing her, but sometimes it was hard to separate the two.

She tilted her head up at him, refusing to be intimidated. Oh, she had such pluck, such beautifully unreasonable confidence,despite all the natural instincts that told her danger, predator, be afraid.

He couldn't deny he was impressed. He was also much closer than he'd expected her to let him get. Those huge green eyes were staring up at him, wide and wild, and he could hear the unsteady rasp of her breath and the pitter patter of her heart, but she didn't back down. She was even prettier than he'd remembered. Golden skin and golden hair... she must absolutely glow in daylight.

"No, Spike," she said softly at last. "It's gonna hurt a lot."

 _God_. He had to take a breath. Did she even know what she was doing to him with dirty talk like that? At least he knew it wasn't just him who was revved up. Her scent was all around him now; terror, excitement and arousal overlaid the scent of her blood. It was glorious. He did appreciate a girl who enjoyed a good brawl, and he loved being proven right; his instincts about her had been spot on. He looked and lusted, without realising his fang was worrying at his bottom lip until he tasted blood coppery rich in his mouth.

He reached out to touch all that glittering, shimmering gold floating around her face, his breath catching in his throat. _Like liquid light_. Part of his brain reminded him Dru had warned him about playing in the sunshine, but mostly he was captivated by the softness of it, the way it shone, how it flowed through his fingers.

For half a second, maybe less, they stood and looked at each other, his hand caught in the act of smoothing her hair back from her forehead, her eyes even wider than before. Then they remembered they were enemies.

Her fist caught him in the gut, and he laughed out loud. Oh, she was a feisty little thing. He'd been looking forward to this for what felt like forever; this was why he hadn't been able to make himself wait any longer. He'd told her the truth, even if he'd left some of it out. He'd been bored... and he also just hadn't been able to resist. He couldn't fool himself; if the parental inspection hadn't been in the offing, he would've found another excuse. A whole day had been almost unbearable. Waiting till the weekend? Untenable.

It didn't sit right taking on a Slayer on some mythical night of power anyway. It should be like this, ducking and diving, never sure if she was going to get in a lucky blow.

(It didn't sit right doing it with backup either, but chivalry and the honour of battle only got you so far. He wouldn't trust the Aurelian twats to look after a kitten, never mind his beloved sire. Having a couple of goons within yelling distance in case he got in too deep was necessary insurance. And hey, evil vampire here. It was only his own outdated sense of decorum that said this wasn't fair; there wasn't a vamp for miles who'd think twice about cheatin' to get one over on the Slayer if they thought they could manage it.)

He let himself fall into the rhythm of the fight, the give and take of it, laughing again as they laid into one another. She was just as good as he'd hoped, maybe even better. If he didn't need to get a stranglehold on the town for Dru's sake, he'd definitely keep her around. If she was this good at sixteen, she would be magnificent in a few years. Easily as good as his Nikki, given time, and he could've danced all night with that one.

Her heart was racing. Oh, he did so enjoy playing with his food. He was sure she'd deny it, if he took a second to ask - maybe wasn't even consciously aware, since she was such an innocent young thing - but it was obvious combat gave her a rush, thrilled her. Just like it should.

He threw her down, watched her bounce right back up on her feet, got in another satisfying left hook to her jaw. A good thing Slayer healing would take care of it - it would seem a shame to touch her face otherwise.

Then he remembered he was supposed to be killing her here, and it didn't much matter whether he left behind a beautiful corpse. She got in a few good hits while he was distracted, but he was a vampire after all, and he wasn't intimidated by a little girl, even if that little girl happened to be mystically chosen to kill his kind.

Overeager after her minor success, she got too close. He grabbed her, threw her back down on the floor, then slammed himself on top. Maybe he'd get to nibble on that oh so tempting bottom lip after all.

She flailed, trying to dislodge him, so he rammed his arm across her throat and pressed down. She scrabbled at him as she tried to catch her breath, her nails tearing at his face, her eyes gone huge again. He grinned - well, leered. "You like it rough, kitten?"

For the first time since he'd met her, he saw outright terror in her expression. Not instinctive fear for her life, or a healthy respect for her opponent, but genuine, unadulterated terror. Given everything else he'd seen of her so far, he was sort of flattered.

He leaned down harder until her scrabbling weakened, then eased up. It was effective, and undoubtedly it'd truly scared her, but suffocation was not a proper death for a Slayer. Besides, it was a shame to get a feast like this and not feel her fight him to her last breath.

He caught one arm, then the other, splayed her out and held on tight. Finally he had her pinned, at his mercy. He roared his triumph, his demon exultant, then let his body press down hard into hers, his mouth unerringly seeking out the soft skin of her throat.

 _Mine_.


	11. Defeat - Buffy

_**Defeat**_

* * *

What was he waiting for?

When he'd pinned her, hands vise-like at her elbows, his body pressing her down and his coat settling around them like wings, she'd known this was it. Known she'd had it, despite her best efforts. That the Slayer of Slayers had claimed his third Chosen One.

It hadn't stopped her struggling and attempting to free herself, because she had no intention of making it easy on him, but she'd been living on borrowed time since the Master. At least she'd made sure her mom would be safe for tonight, and she couldn't worry about the rest of it. Another slayer would be called and sent to Sunnydale. Giles would watch out for her friends. They'd be okay. She had to believe that. Maybe Giles could even convince Mom to move away, somewhere safer, since she would no longer have a troubled teen in need of a high school that didn't ask too many questions.

She'd been ready.

Spike apparently wasn't in such a rush to finish her off. He hadn't let up, hadn't loosened his grip, but he hadn't bitten her either, and he had his mouth pressed against her like a lover. He took a breath (why did he breathe so much? Didn't he realise vampires didn't need oxygen?) and let it out in a happy sigh, then nuzzled a gentle brush of lips against her neck in a way she might, in different circumstances, have called a kiss.

She gulped. This was not what she'd expected. At all.

Another deep pull of air, and he shuddered, nestling in closer with a low moan that made her scalp tingle in a way she really didn't want to think about.

She wriggled beneath him, bucked her hips again, tried very hard to ignore the evidence of his enjoyment where it was wedged between her thighs. He was getting off on this, and it shouldn't surprise her, really, given what they'd finally managed to unearth of his reputation, but most vampires she met were only interested in trying to kill her, or at least in trying to escape before she killed them. Spike seemed to be enjoying her, relishing her, which was seriously weirding her out.

She'd had the fleeting, horrifying thought that maybe he wanted to do... _things_ to her before he killed her, but despite being clearly (oh God, so clearly) aroused, he hadn't tried to get inside her clothing, hadn't made anything even resembling a threat since the leering question as she'd choked for air. (And why hadn't he just continued until she passed out? This was not normal vampire behaviour.)

Wait... was he... sniffing her?

He buried his nose in the hollow at the base of her throat and took a long breath in, groaned happily.

Well, that was one question answered, though it only left Buffy with a bunch more unanswered ones. She was repulsed by how the vibration against her skin wasn't repellent. What was wrong with her? Her cheeks were burning with her heightened emotions from the fight and her fear and an unwelcome flutter of... of something she didn't dare try and explain, even to herself.

"Bloody hell, pet, you're delicious," he murmured, a deep, seductive rumble she hadn't heard since the Bronze. Quite different from the voice he'd been using to tease and taunt her.

His cold tongue flickered against her pulse point and she bit her lip; she wasn't sure if she wanted to swear or to whimper, but either way, she was certain it would be a bad idea to let the sound escape.

What was wrong with _him_? Wasn't he supposed to be tearing into her neck and feasting on her blood right about now? Not making happy noises against her throat. Almost a... purr. Like he'd found the one place he most wanted to be and intended to curl up there and sleep.

The tension was unbearable.

She twisted her body, tried once more to throw him off, and he laughed low and husky. This time there was no tease - he outright licked her skin, slowly, deliberately, with every sign of enjoyment. She made a squeaky noise, and she honestly didn't know how much was fear and disgust and how much was related to the shimmer of guilty almost-pleasure rippling down her spine.

Spike looked up, blinked at her slowly; his demon had dropped away and his expression was strangely soft.

It was disconcerting to see his handsome face and know he'd come here to kill her, that even now he could smell her blood and was savouring her fear. She struggled again, but he was strong - God, was he strong.

She was used to fledglings and idiots, who had strength but were clumsy and stupid. Lothos and the Master had relied on tricks and thralls, and most demons who got in her way didn't have two brain cells to rub together. The smart ones did their best to avoid her. She almost never got to fight anything with both intelligence and skill to go with the brute force, and part of her had enjoyed it, but now... now she was terrified.

He chuckled as he studied her. The sound was rich and warm, almost friendly, like they were playing a fun game, not fighting to the death. Then he leaned down again, and this was it, she was going to die. She'd survived all kinds of monsters and nightmares, and here she was about to have the life sucked out of her by a man who looked like a fallen angel.

(And not even a fallen Angel. At least that would be romantic, all Romeo and Juliet and star-crossed lovers-y. She'd never get to find out if he really loved her.)

There was a moment of eerie stillness, of hesitation, and she should probably take advantage but she'd lost the will to fight anymore. It was as if he'd changed his mind for some unfathomable reason, but she was still pinned down. Waiting for the end was agony. If he was going to kill her, couldn't he just get on and do it already? This whole thing was screwing with her head.

She heard the crunch of bone as his features shifted, felt his breath on her neck again as he prepared to bite her. The lightest scrape of fang on flesh was almost a relief, something she actually understood. She braced herself for the inevitable-

"You get the hell away from my daughter!"

There was a moment full of action, of teeth failing to rip her throat open, of a lack of vampire pinning her to the floor, of loud and inventive cursing.

Buffy cautiously sat up, blinking, both relieved and surprised at how not-dead she was. Spike was sprawled in an inelegant heap on the floor a few feet away, an extremely pissed expression on his face made all the more ominous (and a bit comic) by the yellow eyes and jagged fangs. He glared at her as if she'd ruined his life - as if he wasn't the one who'd wrecked Parent-Teacher Night and gotten her in trouble! - and she had to fight back the urge to poke her tongue out at him as if she was six instead of sixteen.

She looked around, almost afraid to find out what the heck had taken him out when she'd failed to - had she imagined that so familiar voice? - then choked back a laugh of relief when she saw her mom wielding the fire axe from earlier.

"Women!" Spike snarled, before leaping to his feet and disappearing in a swirl of black leather.

Buffy could breathe again. She gazed up at her mom in surprise and wonder. "Wow."

"Nobody lays a hand on my little girl."

Buffy blinked, This time she did laugh as she scrambled up and flung herself in for a mom-hug. "Oh God, Mom." She shook her head, still catching up with events, having a little trouble actually believing what had just happened. It shouldn't have been so easy to scare Spike off - even if her mom did look pretty intimidating with a fire axe - but she wasn't about to complain that it had worked. "You were supposed to be escaping."

Joyce stroked a hand over Buffy's hair and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "You needed me," she said simply, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did.

Buffy grinned and buried herself in her mom's comforting embrace. Tonight had sort of been a disaster (okay, not sort of, it'd been a complete and total disaster on an epic scale), but... she was alive.


	12. Regroup - Spike

_**Regroup**_

* * *

"I have a daughter who can take care of herself. Who's brave and resourceful and thinks of others in a crisis."

Spike stifled the urge to make gagging noises at the revoltingly touching mother-daughter make-up scene he was witnessing from the roof of the school.

"No matter who you hang out with or what dumb teenage stuff you think you need to do, I'm gonna sleep better knowing all that."

He glowered as the Slayer walked away arm in arm with her surprisingly brave mother.

"About how long till this wears off and you start ragging on me again?"

"Oh, at least a week and a half."

"Very cool!"

Damn the Slayer for being all chirpy and happy instead of - well, dead, for preference, though at this point he would settle for gravely injured. He was already concocting a better story in his head for the inevitable questions he'd face when it became clear the Slayer was still alive. If this got out, he was never going to live it down, and there went his rep.

He wondered if the Slayer line ran in families. It wasn't something he'd thought about before, hadn't much cared. His obsession was to fight the bints, not to learn their history; unless it helped him win, it wasn't important. But maybe he should've been more thorough. Perhaps Mama Slayer was one of those Potentials who got missed by the Council? If she was, it would make being bested by her at least a little less embarrassing.

Being beaten or even killed by a Slayer in a fair fight, that was one thing. That was practically bloody noble, or as close as vamps ever got. Death or glory, what else was there? Hell, that was why he sought them out.

Getting conked on the head by the Slayer's mother? Then _scarpering_? That was just... he shuddered. He'd be laughed out of town. And while part of him would be glad to see the back of this provincial shithole, Dru was still sick... and William the Bloody didn't run from a challenge.

"Bloody buggering fuck." He didn't have a choice.

In the heat of the moment, he kept forgetting this one was different. It wasn't about death or glory. He'd lost himself, forgotten his plans, forgotten everything except the brawl and the blood and the girl. Forgotten that he needed to win to cure Dru, not just because this Slayer seemed like she'd put up a truly magnificent fight... he shook himself. Enough. Buffy was dead, she just didn't know it yet. He'd soon cure her of those annoying habits like walking around and breathing.

Since when did Slayers have mums hanging around to protect them anyway? That wasn't playing by the rules. Friends, family, the sodding parent-teacher do... Slayers were only supposed to have a Watcher and a death wish to keep them warm at night, not ruddy backup. He should write a letter to the Council of Wankers to complain about false advertising.

As for Dru, well Dru had been behaving oddly with him ever since he'd come back from that first recce, and then she'd accused him of- well, he didn't rightly understand what, because she hadn't made much sense, but it had all been to do with Buffy. When she found out the Slayer was still alive, smelled the girl all over him... Oh, he was in the doghouse for sure.

He pouted. Little blonde bitch, ruinin' his life.

And worse, it was his own damn fault for hesitating, all caught up in the moment. What had he been thinking? He wanted to snap her neck or drain her dry... but he also wanted to fight with her again. Even just watch her fight, that was fun too; he'd enjoyed seeing her take out that minion, barely breaking a sweat. Maybe he'd luxuriate in the scent of her hair a bit more, suck that plump bottom lip into his mouth to nibble on...

Bollocks. The bird was bloody magnificent. He wasn't nearly ready for this to be over. Kill her or keep her. Couldn't do both. Problem. He couldn't even turn her. Her wholesome air of sunshine and summer, the light in her eyes... if he turned her, he'd be destroying what he most wanted to preserve-

No. No, that wasn't it, couldn't be; he just wanted to taste her blood, and he was gettin' all confused 'cause of what Dru said about him being covered with her, and 'cause she smelled so good. That was all it was.

She clearly had a jones for grandsire, more fool her, and Spike could use that somehow, no doubt. He wondered if Buffy realised Angelus had a type, that she wasn't the first short sassy blonde to catch his eye.

Spike'd show her that it took more than a soul shoved up Angelus' bum to change the blighter, he'd show her that 'Angel' was a nasty piece of work under all the remorse and brooding, and then he'd show her she could do much better- no wait, that wasn't right.

Then he would _kill_ her, get Dru healthy again, get out of this sorry hellhole and cut a swathe through the continent like they had in Europe. Except this time with no Peaches and Bitch Senior to spoil the fun.

All he had to do was get rid of the Slayer. He tried to ignore the remaining pesky misgivings he had about his plan. This time he'd stick to it, instead of getting impatient and distracted, and he'd do it, he'd succeed, for his Dru.

He just needed to focus.

He ran along the roof, dropped lightly down out of sight of the remaining shenanigans and started back towards the factory at an easy jog. Then, after a moment's thought, he changed direction. He wasn't getting any loving tonight, that was for sure, and he had the Annoying One and his motley crew to placate or maybe just kill.

He'd planned to feast on the Slayer with Dru, had hardly been able to concentrate on anyone or anything else since dancing with the chit, had pretty much forgotten to feed. He needed to eat, and surely it'd help him think straight, maybe even get the worst of Buffy's scent off him so Dru wouldn't be so cross.

Town centre should be full of people (residents of this stupid burg never did learn to stay home after dark), or maybe he would swing by the college campus and score himself a co-ed. He brightened up at the thought. He would find himself some blonde-haired, golden-skinned lass, seduce her and kill her and drain her, and maybe he could find out where the Slayer lived and leave a calling card on her doorstep to remind her what he planned to do the next time he saw her.

He'd show her (and Dru) that all he wanted was to make her his third, to defeat her and drink her up and dance on her grave. And if he was looking forward to getting in a few more fights with her in the meantime, well, that was just natural, right? Slayer, vampire, it'd be strange if he didn't enjoy that. Was bloody fun!

Comforted, he ran off into the night.

 _~ fin ~_


End file.
